That won’t be easy. Weeks after Salim’s brothers-the Afghan mujahedin-triumphed in their 14-year jihad to oust the Soviet Army and topple the Communist regime in Kabul, the capital was still under siege as the insurgents fought each other. Two days of rocket and artillery barrage from the south by forces loyal to Gulbuddin Hekmatyar, the renegade guerrilla chief, left at least 73 people dead and nearly 400 wounded. Emergency rooms were overloaded, many buildings had been looted and edgy guerrillas manned checkpoints all around the city. A midweek cease-fire managed to quiet the city, but few residents expected it to last. Meanwhile, an interim council created to run the country was too busy dealing with mujahedin infighting to think about preparing the country for open elections, which are promised in two years.
Personal and ethnic rivalries already disrupt the council. Hekmatyar, a charismatic Islamic hard-liner who once enjoyed considerable U.S. support during the struggle against the former regime, refuses to join the new Islamic government–except on his own terms. He demanded the resignation of interim president and longtime rival Sibghatullah Mojadedi and the right to make cabinet appointments. Hekmatyar also called for the expulsion from Kabul of Maj. Gen. Abdul Rashid Dostam’s northern militia, even though it was Dostam’s eleventh-hour conversion to the rebellion that helped oust President Najibullah last month. On every point, Hekmatyar (an ethnic Pashtun from the south) was rebuffed by Ahmed Shah Massoud, a northern Tajik and perhaps the new government’s most formidable military leader.
Hekmatyar’s challenge was only the most severe rupture in the ranks of the mujahedin. Inside the interim government itself, individual members and factions tried to outmaneuver each other for power and influence. The splits often ran along ethnic lines. The face-off with Hekmatyar in particular threatened to drive a wedge between the northern minorities and the southern Pashtuns-who have ruled Afghanistan for the last 245 years.
Bargaining power in Kabul these days is largely based on military might. General Dostam has intimated that unless he gets his fair share of power, he will set up an autonomous region for his fellow Uzbeks. Another disgruntled rebel commander, Abdul Haq, complained about the lack of democratic process. “These people are sitting there making governments without any consultation with the people,” he said. The new government has had trouble speaking with one voice. Last week, when President Mojadedi called for an extension of his two-month term, guerrilla chiefs largely ignored him. Then, just a week after Mojadedi declared a general amnesty, rival mujahedin leaders announced the formation of a tribunal to try former communist officials accused of killing and torturing innocent people. One likely target is Najibullah, who was still hiding in a U.N. office in Kabul.
The council did manage to agree on one thing: the establishment of an Islamic state. The new administration outlawed the sale or consumption of alcohol, an offense punishable by flogging, and ordered women to cover their hair with a scarf or veil. It was an abrupt end to a short-lived era of limited social liberation in Afghanistan. “As far as I’m concerned, we’ve lost our freedom,” complained a 21-year-old working woman. “All my hopes have turned to dust.” But it’s not simply the head scarves or burkhas, the head-to-toe shrouds, that some women object to; it’s that they have virtually no say in their future. They’re excluded from the newly formed councils of government and may not be allowed to vote in the promised elections. That would be in keeping with a male-dominated society that is regulated by tribal customs nearly as old and unforgiving as Afghanistan’s white-capped mountains. But after tossing out communism, an alien and divisive ideology, mujahedin leaders are hoping that Islam will build a bridge between peoples.
Rebuilding the war-ravaged country will be a more formidable challenge. Afghanistan is pocked with abandoned villages–their crumbling mud walls reminiscent of archeological sites. Many roads and bridges were either blown up or washed away. Up to 10 million mines litter the land; without accurate maps, defusing them is a hazardous, often fatal, business: in April alone, four Afghan workers were killed trying to dismantle mines. With virtually no sources of revenue, the government is broke. Its leaders, who received billions of dollars in arms from America and the oil-rich gulf states, will look for billions more to rebuild the country. On the borders, many of the 5 million Afghan refugees in Pakistan and Iran are awaiting more stable conditions before going home. One of them is Azim Khan, a 12-year-old student at the Kacha Garhi refugee camp in Peshawar, who lost his leg 10 years ago when a shell landed in the yard of his house in Kabul. Now he limps around on a plastic foot and lives with 35 relatives in a mud-and-stick house. “When the situation improves,” he says, “then I will return.” With the fate of Kabul still hanging, it could be a very long wait.
